Just a Feeling
by jremme
Summary: Dean has a bad feeling about a town, and his hunch is right. Will he and Sam be able to save a campus from its ghostly inhabitants, and get out alive? And what is up with the fog? FINALLY COMPLETE! YAY!
1. Chapter 1

Hey all, this is my first fanfic, so if please be gentle if you review, and PLEASE review. I'd really appreciate it. I don't own supernatural or any of the characters so please don't sue me. I'm just trying to write something that hopefully people will enjoy. Thank you.

Sam Winchester rolled over and opened his eyes halfway. He saw fields rushing past him. This wasn't right. He was supposed to be stretched out in his own bed, comfortable and warm. Instead he was stiff and curled up into a sort of uncomfortable half-ball. He yawned and cracked his neck, which hurt from being in one position for hours. Yep, he was definitely in his brother's car. He couldn't know for sure, but he had the funniest feeling he was going to die an old man in that car, always driving, driving, never staying in one place. Ahh, the life of a traveling ghostbuster, always on the fringes of society. Going from town to town, not settling down. It made him feel sick at times.

He glanced around at his brother. Dean always seemed to be awake, always had energy. Had he been driving all night? Sam couldn't recall, didn't want to think that he had, although it wouldn't have surprised him one bit. "Good morning sleeping beauty", his brother said. Sam responded with another yawn and a swipe at Dean's shoulder. "You don't look so hot yourself", he said. "You can't possibly mean that", Dean replied, glancing at his reflection in the rearview mirror. "You're completely wrong, I do look hot, and you look hungry. You wanna stop for breakfast?" Sam contemplated the thought of breakfast, of getting out of the damn car for awhile. He hadn't thought of it before, but he was hungry. "Sure", he said simply, and they pulled over to a diner at the next town they hit, a place called Clearview Minnesota, which was shrouded in an early morning fog.

Sam crawled out of the passenger seat, stretching out his long legs and bending backwards to stretch his back. He resisted the temptation to look back at the seat, convinced that he would find an imprint of his body in it. They really needed to stop more. He waited for Dean to climb out, but he just sat there like an idiot. "You coming?" Sam asked. "Something feels off here, I can't explain it", Dean replied, absentmindedly putting a hand on the car door handle. "Come on, don't start all that 'I have a bad feeling about this' business. Not every town is haunted. Some towns are perfectly normal and have perfectly normal people". Sam was exasperated. Why did every town they passed through have to have a spirit problem? But Dean remained in his seat. "Every town has a story Sam," he said matter-of-factly. "And this place is no exception. I want to stay here and do a little digging".

Sam weighed his options. He could fight it, could throw a temper tantrum in the hopes that Dean would take pity on him and they could leave this town in the dust after breakfast. That, of course, meant who knows how long in the car. The other choice was to indulge Dean, and if they found something worth investigating, they could stay in a motel at least one night. And in Sam's mind, a motel equaled a bed. Hmmm. Pillows and blankets or leather and a seatbelt? It was no contest.

"All right, we'll stay and check this place out, but only if you're sure this is a genuine feeling of foreboding and not just the effects of the fog on your mind". "I'm positive, I just feel something, not around this place, but down that way", and he pointed a finger towards the center of town. Sam followed his finger and saw a cluster of buildings rising above the others in the area. A college. The structure was unmistakable. Sam sighed and thought of his old life. He thought of school, of Jessica. No hunting and no car. It was all behind him now.

He came to reality with Dean's hand waving in front of face, the look of nostalgia fading from his eyes. "Hello, earth to Sammy, remember me, your smart, handsome older brother? Remember breakfast?" "Sorry, I was just…thinking." "It's ok, don't worry about it. If you stopped thinking, I'd be worried about you." Sam sighed again and allowed Dean to steer him gently towards the diner, away from the car that now played such an important part in his existence, his only constant aside from Dean.


	2. the diner

Once again, I don't own supernatural or its characters. Just a story. )

Chapter 2: The Diner

Dean guided Sam to the door of the diner and pushed it open, hearing the usual bell ring above it. Or was it the usual? It sounded lower than all the others he'd heard over the years, and he'd heard more than his fair share. It almost sounded…well, ominous. He shook the idea off. He did have a feeling about this place, that much was true, but now he was reading into it far too much. Besides, there wasn't one specific place where diners purchased their bells. There could be all kinds of different bell sounds for all he knew. But still. He logged it away in his memory, just in case. He suddenly realized he'd been lost in thought and now it was Sam who was guiding him to a table in the right corner of the diner.

"You all right?" Sam asked, a bit of concern etched on his face.

"Yea I'm fine, I just thought I heard something odd is all".

There was no way he was going to share his thoughts on the bell. Sam already thought he was nuts for wanting to stay here, that he had a feeling they could be useful. He supposed he was just more sensitive to things of that nature than Sam was. Or maybe Sam did feel what he did, but just didn't want to acknowledge it. Fighting ghosts and legends wasn't normal, and Sam wanted normalcy. Yes, that was it. Good job Dean, he thought to himself. You cracked the code that is Sam.

It had been an accepted fact by both brothers that people who worked in diners loved to talk. It was a good way to gain information. Unfortunately, Sam was hardly in a gossiping mood, so it was up to Dean to strike up a conversation with their middle-aged waitress, who looked as though she'd rather be in hell than at work that morning. She walked up to them and practically slammed their menus on the table.

"Coffee?" she snapped, glaring daggers at them for making her work.

"No thanks," both brothers squeaked, not wanting to anger her further.

She was a small woman, but intimidating, with a way about her that told Dean to be careful with what he said to her. She could probably take them both down, and make them the diner's blue plate special for the next morning.

"How are you today?" accompanied with a charming smile was what he started with when she brought their orders. He bit his lip and squinted his eyes, as though he expected a backhand as the response to the question. Surprisingly to him, she seemed to soften up a bit.

"I'm not too bad," she said, "Most folks don't bother to ask, local or otherwise. Are you two here to investigate last week's murder, Jenny Turner's murder?"

Dean allowed himself a smirk. He'd hit paydirt, and much sooner than he'd expected. He cast a look at Sam. From his brother's face, he hadn't expected that either.

"Yea, we are as a matter of fact. I'm agent Butler and this is agent O'Hara. We're with the FBI."

"I assumed as much, but I will tell you're too late. The murder was last week and Chris Marsh confessed and turned himself in last night."

"Oh, I see, are there any loose ends that need tying up?" Not exactly FBI-like, he thought.

"Well, the family doesn't think he did it, but that's only natural. Of course, I wouldn't have suspected it either. I know him and his family. Very decent people. Wouldn't have thought Chris had it in him. He was always so quiet. Don't know if that's a loose end or not, but there it is."

Dean processed this information. It was reason enough to stay, investigate further. He still had that nagging feeling that something was off in this place and this was a flimsy enough pretext to tell Sam. The murder had been solved, so there probably wasn't a ghost connected to it; justice had been served, it seemed like. After all, wasn't it always the person you'd least suspect?

After their waitress left, Dean turned to Sam.

"She really lightened up", Sam stated.

"It's the old Winchester charm" Dean said. "I'm just full of it".

"Well, you're full of something anyway." Sam said with a chuckle, the first one Dean had heard in awhile. The sound made him smile.

"She really cleared things up" Sam continued. "There's no hunt here. The murder was solved and the suspect turned himself in".

"Yea but I'd still like to stay…something's still wrong here, this whole town has an odd vibe and the fact that Chris Marsh may not be guilty is something worth investigating. If not for a ghost hunt, then we should at least stay and try to help this guy out, if we can."

"What for? He confessed. Plus, she said his family thinks he's innocent, not anyone else. Family always thinks you're innocent, that's why they're family. Wouldn't you think I was innocent if I broke the law?"

Dean stared at Sam. His brother had a look about him that said he couldn't believe he was saying all this, that he was trying to keep them from staying. He would have thought Sam would be thrilled at the idea of a motel bed, a stationary place to spend the night. But Sam wouldn't back down. It was an argument, and he wouldn't want to give up yet, not without a good fight. It was the little brother in him. Dean debated. He didn't want to argue, he wanted to stay, and he knew Sammy would want a good night's sleep in something other than a car seat. He would end it all now.

So, he didn't reply to the question, only said "We're staying and that's final. Anyway, you won't get far without these".

He waved his keys in front of Sam's face. Sam pouted for a second, then straightened up. Good. He didn't need more arguing right now.

"Fine we'll stay, but keep in mind, I'm only in it for the motel, nothing else, a night not spent in that car would do me good."

"She's more than just a car Sam, she's an extension of my being, my baby."

Sam actually laughed at this. "Whatever you say, as long as I don't have to call her my sister!"

Dean gave him a Look, and went to get the check and ask about cheap motels. As he went to the counter, he looked outside. The fog seemed to be getting heavier, practically shrouding his car from his eyes.

**Author's note: I don't update on weekends, but I will type some new chapters if I have time. Time is sometimes hard to come by, but I'll do my best and update as often as I can. I might slow down after a bit, but don't give up on me. I will finish this!**

**majorlakerfan22: thank you for the review! Wow, my first review, I was so excited to see it! I have the story all mapped out so hopefully you'll continue to read and enjoy it. Thanks again:)**

**Windyfontaine: Thanks for the review! I really appreciate feedback. It's what's gonna keep me goin! No sense putting a fic up if no one reads it. Keep reading. :)**

**My heart beats only for you: Thank you for reading and reviewing! I love reading what people have to say about this fic, even if it's barely off the ground. Hopefully what this fic turns into will make sense:) thank you so much!**


	3. the jail

Hey, those who are reading this! As you all probably know, I don't own supernatural or the characters. In fact, I don't really own all that much in the first place. Enjoy!

Chapter 3: The Jail

"I'm back…in the car." Sam groaned dramatically, slumping in the all too familiar seat.

He knew it was only for the short drive to the nearby motel, but any time spent in the extension of Dean's body was too long for him. He wanted a bed, a television.

"Quit your whining, we'll be there in like 10 seconds".

"10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…we're not there yet".

"You're hilarious, you know that?"

Sam didn't reply, only looked out at the fog-ridden scenery. It was kind of odd. It was mid morning; the fog should have disappeared by now. On the other hand, he was no meteorologist, what did he know. Plus, the weather was all screwed up now, with global warming and all that stuff. He pushed it out of his mind, and thought of the motel, and how close he'd come to missing it. He was actually thankful Dean had ended their argument. What had he been thinking? Why had he tried to keep them from staying? He couldn't answer his own question. Then he looked over at Dean. The fog seemed to make his brother uneasy.

"Are you scared of the fog?" he asked in a teasing tone of voice.

"It worries me, it shouldn't be here, yet it is."

"All part of your 'feeling' I suppose."

"Yep, it's all wrong, this town, and I think it's somehow connected to the murder. It's gotta be, I can't think of another explanation for it. The only question is how is it connected. Something doesn't make sense."

Sam didn't want to get into it with Dean right then. The case surrounding the murder was over. Maybe even the real FBI had investigated. The fog was a weather phenomenon, nothing more. That was all it could be.

Sam climbed out of the car and stared at the motel. It was small, but it was cheap. A cheap motel was Dean's only requirement. It probably didn't even have cable. Oh well, to Sam it looked like Club Med. It meant a night with the car in a parking lot. He smiled broadly, and raced up to the entrance. Dean followed slowly, walking backward for some reason, watching the fog envelop his car the farther he got from it.

Dean and his feeling. It was fog. Just fog. Maybe Minnesota got a lot of fog, and it stuck around. No telling Dean that though. Every odd thing had to have a supernatural explanation. Sure, Dean was right sometimes, but not this time. Case closed. Jenny Turner was dead and her killer had confessed and was in jail.

"So, where do you wanna start?" Dean asked.

They had found their room, and Sam lay sprawled on one of the beds, enjoying the feeling of the blankets and the springs beneath him.

"I told you, I'm here for the motel. You can start wherever you want, I'll just tag along."

"I was thinking the jail, to talk to Chris Marsh."

"Sounds good to me. Then you can hear his confession with your own ears."

Seconds later, Dean was out the door, leaving Sam to struggle with an un-cooperating shoe. Couldn't he ever wait up? It was just like when they were kids. Some things never change.

They arrived at the jail, and met little opposition. The FBI ruse continued to work. Oddly, no one asked to see identification. Usually it was the law enforcement people who asked for it. It was one less thing to deal with, Sam thought.

When he glanced over at Dean, his brother looked a bit troubled by the whole thing; he had probably expected some kind of clash with the people at the prison. When no problem occurred, he had probably jumped to the conclusion that this was another odd thing about this place, strengthening his 'feeling'. Sam figured, simply, that no one thought to ask for ID. They would think of it once they were gone. It had happened that way before.

They made their way to Chris Marsh's cell. It was quiet in here, Sam thought. Then he saw why. The prison was empty save for Chris Marsh. Ok, that was a little weird, especially for a college town. But it still didn't mean there were spirits here. It was just…weird. Sam knew Dean noticed it too, had it mentally written on his list of strange things in Clearview Minnesota. For once, Sam couldn't think of an explanation for the empty prison that suited him. Better not to think of it at all, or his brain might start to hurt.

Chris Marsh didn't look like a murderer. The diner waitress had been right about that. He was a scrawny scared looking kid who needed a tan. He didn't look like he could beat anyone up, much less kill them. He was like a classic nerd. Thick glasses, preppy clothes, the works. Sam checked for a pocket protector, but was disappointed. Too bad.

"Hey, Chris…" Sam half listened as Dean made the introductions. He just stared at the kid. He was probably about Sam's own age, but he looked a lot younger. Dean questioned him, and he told him exactly what Sam had been expecting, that he had killed Jenny Turner. In a fit of jealousy it seemed.

They had been at the college together. She had been flirting with him for awhile and he had thought she'd really liked him, but then she had turned and started dating a football quarterback named Marty Strong, who had always picked on Chris, since grade school. Typical football player name, Sam thought with a slight grin. Chris had killed Jenny in a fit of jealousy one night in her dorm, hadn't meant to, it had just happened. And that was it.

"You said you killed her in her dorm room. What room was she in?"

Sam could sense a dorm sleepover on the horizon. As long as it had a bed though, he didn't care. Once he had Chris's answer, Dean left. Sam shot Chris a hopeful smile, which wasn't returned, and followed after his brother. The guy still didn't wait...was it so hard? Or at least a warning that he was leaving would have been nice. Dean was in his own little world today. Again, the cops in the prison didn't give them a second glance as they left. They needed to get out more, Sam thought. They were so pale. Too many darkened donut shops. Was there even one here? If not, they probably spent most of their time in the diner, or right here at the prison entrance.

"The dorm room is the key" Dean said in the parking lot. "She was killed there, so if her spirit is still in this world, it'll be in there."

"Why would her spirit still be here though? The case is closed"

"I believe Chris is innocent"

"You do?"

"I do. Think about it. Look at that guy, first of all. He looks dead, to be honest with you. He doesn't look like he could kill anybody. He looks scared and miserable, like he knows he shouldn't be there. And this Marty guy that Jenny started seeing was bullying him. So, here's my theory. Marty killed Jenny for reasons I don't know yet, and threatened Chris into confessing, taking the rap for him. That being the case, Jenny's ghost would be hanging around, because justice has not been served. That, in turn, explains my feeling."

"That's a nice theory."

"Thank you little brother. Do you believe me now." Dean looked hopeful.

"Not quite, but I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. I agree with you about Chris. Definitely not your average murderer. He's too soft spoken and small in my opinion"

"I'll take that. Now, onward, to the college!"

Sam wasn't so sure Dean was wrong anymore, but he still wasn't convinced he was right.

The hunt was on, if there was one.

**Author's note: Ok, so I think this will be my last update this week, I'll try and get a couple in next week as well. )**

**My heart beats for you: Isn't Dean angst the best? The more Dean the better I say. But that's just me. Thank you for the kind reviews. I'm lovin em! )**

**ashlyns: What is it about guys and cars? My brother is the same way..I don't quite understand it, but I tried to make Dean as real as possible. And judging from the show, he loves that car. It's nice...but to me it's still just a car lol. ) Thank you for the review and keep reading!**

**Laily: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you liked my little fic. Your guess is correct! Dean is hot, what can i say? He will be more of the hero just because I get the feeling that he's a little more open to the possibility of the supernatural. Sam believes, but at the same time, seems reluctant because of the life that's attached to the belief in the supernatural. In short, he's complex but boring...believers are more fun! And plus, ya write about what ya like. As for Dean angst, if it flows with the story,I'll be sure to squeeze some in. ) Keep reading and thank you!**


	4. the dorm

**I know y'all are sick of it, but I gotta say it anyway, I do NOT own supernatural! Thanks again to the people who reviewed. I appreciate all the great compliments. Now, on with the story!**

**Chapter 4: The dorm**

The college itself was smaller than Dean had thought. Of course, he'd only seen Sam's once and had driven past others, so he didn't really have much experience. Still, the place was dinky. He looked over at Sam. He was asleep. How the hell could he have fallen asleep so fast? He debated how to wake him. His gentle side, which did not manifest itself often won out, and he parked the car in the college lot and gently shook his brother awake.

"I fell asleep? How the hell did that happen?"

"Well, as far as I can see, you shut your pretty little eyes, and things went from there"

"Are we there yet?"

"We stopped, didn't we?"

They climbed out, Sam still a bit groggy, and made their way to the door. Dean had to admit, he'd gotten used to the fog. It was like a part of the town. It still weirded him out, and he couldn't say for sure, but he thought it had a bit of a smell, almost like…well he couldn't quite place it, but it reminded him of something. He took the lead from Sam, and went down the end of the residence hall where Jenny's room was. He stopped and turned the knob. Nothing.

He looked around, a bit confused, and that was when he noticed it, or thought he did. A misty fog coming from under the door. He blinked incredulously. It was gone. Was he going crazy? No, no, of course not. It was all connected. The fog was connected with the murder. He was more sure of it now than ever. Still, better not mention it to Sam. He might think he'd gone cuckoo. He tried the door again.

"What's wrong with this thing? Sammy, I think it's stuck or something."

"It's not stuck Dean. You need a little something called a key."

Dean sighed. His brain had gone to lala land. He turned from the door and started following Sam back down the hall, when he heard a light click. He stopped, turned and saw that the door was slightly ajar. Had it been stuck…or was it something else? He shivered involuntarily and called Sam back.

"It's open Sam."

"Huh?"

"It's open, It must have been stuck."

"Or maybe it was something else…Ooooooo" Sam made a ghosty sound and waggled his fingers at Dean. Little brothers. No matter how old they got, they were always the same. Dean got a mental image of them hunting when they were in their 60s and Sam being obnoxious. It would probably come to pass.

"Quit it and come on. You're not too old for a noogie or an Indian burn."

The room was devoid of all but the standard dorm furniture: a desk, closet, and bed. One bed. Not big enough to share either. They'd probably flip a coin for it later. Dean glanced around. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. The crime scene had been cleaned up, although the room seemed a bit cold. Could be the cool weather outside, or it could be the presence of a spirit. Only time would tell on that one.

"Get yourself comfortable Sammy."

"I get the bed"

"I'm oldest, I should get the bed."

"Why, cause your old bones need a comfy bed? Gimme a break." Sam would not give in. Only one way to solve this, as predicted.

"Fine, we'll flip for it. Heads or tails."

Sam had, naturally won the toss. He always did. It was like the coin always took pity on the baby in the family. Everything was on Sam's side. No use contesting it though. They still had time before nightfall. It was library time, for some good old research. And whatever got them out of that room for awhile was all right with Dean.

His feeling was nagging at him still, and being in that room made it even stronger. Plus, he had to get his mind off that fog… and the smell of it that he couldn't place. So familiar. Sam's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Hey, the internet won't work in this room!"

"It won't?"

" No, it won't."

"Well, nevermind that, we're going to the library; you can use a computer there."

Sam seemed as eager to get out of the room as Dean did. There was no arguing, no wanting to stay to finish the nap he'd started in the car. It was nice, Dean thought. Maybe the creepy room wasn't so bad after all.

"We don't have internet access here. I'm sorry. We're pretty old fashioned."

Dean gave the palefaced librarian a quizzical look. An old fashioned library in the heart of a college town? Unbelievable. But she knew what she was talking about. No computers in sight. An old card catalog in the corner. Right out the stone age, Dean thought with a smirk.

"What about newpapers? Microfilm, things like that."

"None of that either, just the one microfilm machine, but no papers. The newspapers were all destroyed in a fire not too long ago. Shame it was too. We had newspapers going all the way back to the 1890s."

"What about ones from last week…recent ones?"

"Can't help you there either. Recent papers like last week's papers and this week's go straight down to get put on microfilm. We aren't taking any chances anymore. Probably should have had it done that way before the fire. But didn't work out that way." She sighed sadly.

"Ok, well, thank you for your time."

Dean couldn't believe it. Of all the bad luck. Well, that venture had been pointless. Back to the dorm room. He glanced up. The sun was just starting to set. It was crunch time. Now or never.

He got that feeling he always got right before confronting a ghost. Anticipation, nervousness mixed with a bit of excitement. It was familiar, and at the same time comforting… not like his other feeling, the one about the town. That feeling he could do without.

**Author's Note: Sorry I took so long to update. I'll try and be on the ball in the future, but as I'm being cruelly overworked in college, I'm not making any promises, but I'll do my best. I honestly thought this chapter was a bit weak, so let me know what you thought. Thanks!**

**Ghostwriter: Yes, I will admit, it is a cool car. I'm sorry I offended. I'm just not a car kind of gal, although I wouldn't mind having it myself. Thank you for the review! I hope you keep reading. Reviews are always appreciated. As for the movie The Fog, I'm sorry to say I haven't seen it. My family owns it, so I should check it out. It seems good. )**

**ashlyns: I know, there's just something about fog…it's creepy, and that's all there is to it. Thanks very much for the review. I hope you keep reading and I hope I don't disappoint. )**

**Windyfontaine: Thank you for the review. I appreciate them a lot. They keep me writing. Yea, the car's cool. I retract my previous statements, as the consensus seems to be that I ganged up on the defenseless car. I do like it though. As for foreshadowing…well, you'll have to keep reading to find out. )**


	5. the first evening

**OK, folks, don't own supernatural...blah, blah, blah. May I present chapter 5! It's set up a different just cause it goes from what's happening to Sam to what's happening to Dean, since they're gonna be apart for a bit. Enjoy! )**

**Chapter 5: the first evening**

"Are you sure you won't give up the bed?" Dean pleaded, giving his best attempt at a puppy dog face.

"I'm sure. The bed is mine. I won it fair and square."

"I love you, ya know." Dean said in a singsong voice, batting his eyelashes. Sam grimaced. His brother really wanted that bed.

"No sale."

"Fine, but you should also know that whenever something supernatural happens in situations like this, it's always the person in the bed that gets it. I'm just looking out for you."

"Thanks for offering to take the bullet, but I'm sure I can handle it."

There had to be a reason Dean was so desperate for that bed.

"What's wrong with it?" Sam asked after a pause.

"What's wrong with what?"

"The bed. What did you do to it?"

"Nothing, when would I have had time?" Dean looked puzzled.

"I don't know, but you're trying to get me to give it to you, knowing full well I won't. Logically, that means you did something to it, and you're trying to make it look like you didn't."

"Whatever, I'm gonna grab a shower down the hall."

Sam sighed contentedly, considering the argument won. He stood there for a moment. He didn't mean to give Dean such a hard time. He had always considered it a part of his job description as younger brother. His duty, in a way.

Even so, he knew it was irritating. He'd try harder to not be irritating to Dean. He did love his big brother. He really did. Dean was not only his only brother, but also his only link to the mother he'd never known.

He thought then of Jess, rooted to the spot on the floor as he did. He missed her so much, every day. She had been his future. And now, she was gone, the future he'd planned for along with her.

He suddenly felt tired, and ignoring the light misty fog at his feet, he walked over to the bed. The fog was getting annoying, like a mosquito that wouldn't go away.

And it smelled, a familiar smell, but one that he couldn't place. He hadn't really been aware of it until now. He wondered if Dean had noticed it too.

Maybe it had triggered his memory of Jessica, but he knew one thing for sure, she didn't have any perfumes that had smelled like that. Oh well, he'd probably be able to place it when he stopped thinking about it.

He flopped on the bed, and jumped back up like it was on fire. Actually it felt like it. The thing was burning hot!

He thought about going after Dean, calling him back, but decided against it. Dean would have loved that, getting to play the big brother, coming to rescue scared, little Sammy who couldn't handle anything on his own. Sam didn't think so.

Instead of being a wimp and calling Dean, he stared at the bed, as though expecting something to appear or for flames to shoot out of it. Nothing. He tentatively reached out with a finger and touched the bedspread quickly. It was fine.

This was more confusing than scary for Sam. But definitely fishy. Something _was_ up. He gave in, surrendered the fact. Dean had been right. That didn't mean, however, that he had to admit it to Dean. He could just keep it to himself.

He sat carefully on the edge of the bed and pulled his shoes and socks off. The floor was hard and cold. That was normal, no big deal there. He could always sit further from the edge of the bed and put his feet up, but then his ass would be at risk if the bed heated up again.

His decision was made for him when he felt an icy touch on the back of his feet. He dared to look down, and saw long flat black fingers. They began curling around his foot. He jumped about a mile and found himself standing on the bed, breathing hard. Maybe it was better that Dean had the floor in this case.

He considered yelling for him again. The showers were down the hall, but still, Dean might hear him, and the image of his brother running out the shower in a towel, slipping all over the place and frantic was pretty funny. It actually made him chuckle to himself, in spite of his situation.

But he again decided against it, and decided to just tell Dean when he came back. Making Dean come out of the shower might be considered an irritation. He curled up in a corner of the bed, was as quiet as possible, and tried not to look at anything.

He tried to not to look at the mist on the floor, at what he thought were shapes forming on the walls, but instead he looked at the fog-enshrouded buildings he could see outside the window.

Dean stepped into the shower room and immediately noticed the fog. No problem though; it was a shower room after all. Someone had probably just finished.

After he was all ready, he turned the water on and stepped into the shower stall. That felt soooo good. He had needed it. He should've had one at the hotel, but he'd been so eager to get started.

Had Sam taken one there? Dean couldn't remember. If not, he could make fun of his little brother for it. Hygiene was important. A Winchester man must always look his best.

That got him thinking about Dad, which made him think about Mom. He did miss them…every day. He wondered if Sam thought so. Sometimes, it seemed like Sam thought he had a heart of stone. That he couldn't care.

Although he'd been joking with Sam about the bed, he'd meant the "I love you" part. It just wasn't in his nature to play up a tender moment, or to make one for that matter.

He was thinking about all this and failed to notice the enormous buildup of fog in the shower room, more than was normal. When he did notice it, he couldn't see very far. There it was again. His feeling. He felt himself tense up a bit. He opened the shower curtain a little ways and peeked his head out.

He saw…well, they were shapes. Human form, but abstracted. The arms and legs longer than normal, along with the neck. There were quite a few, black as coal, all along the opposite wall.

They were moving slowly, but the motions they were making were those of running. Running from something. Sometimes one would stop and look back with a featureless face. Then one by one, they fell flat and were gone.

During this spectacle, he stared wide-eyed, transfixed. There was one figure left. It was facing forward, Dean thought, something in its hand, but he couldn't tell what. If it had a face, it would have been looking at him. Then it became a solid form, though still flat, and began walking toward him.

That was what it took to break Dean's trance. He heard himself yelling, and racing from the shower, toward the door, away from that room.

He did, however have the sense to grab a towel from a stack near the door. It was a bit too small, but it would have to do. He hastily wrapped it around himself, and took off for the dorm room, back to Sam, slipping and sliding all the way.

He hoped Sammy was all right. If anything had happened, Sam would have had the sense to call him…right? It was Sam. Dean knew the answer as soon as he asked himself the question.

Sam jumped as he heard the door open. The shapes he thought he'd seen had vanished. He wondered if he'd imagined them. Perhaps shadows from the furniture. The icy fingers, he knew, he had not imagined. He would tell Dean everything though, not hiding anything for once.

His look of slight fear and anxiousness was quickly replaced with one of humor. His earlier thoughts had come true.

His brother stood in the doorway, dripping wet, with a towel that could have passed as a hand towel wrapped around his waist. It was a miracle it fit. But when he turned to lock the door, Sam saw that it didn't.

He laughed, actually pointed at him and laughed.

"Shut it and get me some clothes, would you? You won't be laughing once I tell you what happened to me in there."

"I've got things to tell you too, but for now, I'm gonna laugh."

"Clothes. Now. I feel a draft."

This made him laugh even harder.

"Where's a camera when you need one." It was a light hearted moment in a time of uneasiness. It almost made Sam forget about what had happened to him earlier.

"Sam please."

"There's a full moon tonight, beware the full moon!"

So much for being less irritating, Sam thought. But this was just too hard to pass up.

"Sam, bring me clothes!"

"God, I'm glad I don't have your ass."

"I'm glad I don't have yours cause it's gonna get kicked if you don't get me some…CLOTHES….RIGHT….NOW!"

Ok, starting _now_, he wasn't going to be irritating anymore. He went double time to Dean's clothes pile and pulled some out, immediately tossing them to Dean, who had begun to shiver in the cold room.

Sam entertained the thought that his brother should sit on the bed, see if it would heat up again. And that thought reminded him of the earlier events.

"Thank you! Was that so difficult?"

"I'm sorry, honestly. Now, I've got something to tell you." …

**Author's note: I know everyone loves to hear from me (haha. P) but continue to bear with me. I found some extra time today, that's why this chapter is up so soon after the previous one. I'm sorry to say I don't know how much longer I can keep that up, but I'll try. **

**ashlyns: Thank you as always for the lovely review. The longer the better. I know what you mean about dorm rooms. I have a single this year, and it's creepy. I kept looking over my shoulder as I wrote chapter 4 and this one. I may have nightmares tonight. Please keep reading, and know that if you get scared reading, I got scared writing! )**

**warrior of the shadow: Thanks for the review! I hope you continue to read and enjoy! )**

**Nate and Jake: Many thanks for the review. I hope I can deliver on the drama. I've never written a fic before, and everything I've ever written, except for school stuff, has remained unfinished. I have a hard time with endings…so we'll see how this comes out. Continue reading and hope you like it! )**

**Ghostwriter: Thank you for your review. I'm glad I didn't offend. I'm trying to get readers, not lose them lol. Anyway, I'll watch the fog this weekend. Please keep reading! )**

**Windyfontaine: Thank you so much for the kind review. I'm glad you didn't think it was weak. I tried to make a bit of a comeback with this chapter, and I hope I achieved that. Not to toot my own horn, but this one's my favorite so far! Hope you liked it. I like the banter between them too, and this chapter's full of it! )**


	6. the first night

OMG! I'm soooo sorry it's been so long. As always, I don't own supernatural. Please forgive my lateness, and enjoy!

**Chapter 6: the first night**

Sam didn't really want to go to bed. He would have preferred to just stay awake all night, downing cup after cup of coffee.

But Dean had insisted.

Dean had said that if anything was going to appear that night, it would appear whether they were asleep or not, so they might as well sleep.

Sam couldn't shake what had happened earlier that evening from his mind. And hearing Dean's experience hadn't helped any either.

I should be used to things like this, he thought. After all that had happened to him so far, he should be used to it. But how could you get used to getting creeped out? At least he could take some solace in the fact that not being conditioned to paranormal experience kept him on the normal side of things.

Dean, he noted, seemed perfectly content, despite his earlier experience. Sam cast a look at his brother, who was admiring himself in the mirror and combing out his still wet hair for the billionth time.

Sam did a double take. The reflection in the mirror was fog, just fog. And was that something shadowy moving within it, like the things Dean had seen?

"Uh, Dean?"

"Huh?"

"Do you see nothing but fog in the mirror, and shadowy things?

"No, I see one handsome devil though."

"I see fog and shadowy things."

"Lucky."

Not exactly the term Sam would have used. He shivered in spite of himself.

"Beddy-bye time."

"Yippee." Sam replied dryly.

"You want a lullaby or a bedtime story?"

"Good night Dean"

"Or maybe you could just crawl in here with me, if that would make you feel more safe." A pause. "You don't wet the bed anymore do you?"

"GOOD NIGHT DEAN!" A pause. "And you know perfectly well I haven't wet the bed since I was 5."

"I don't know anything."

"You got that right." A pillow hit Sam in the face.

"Next time it'll be something harder."

"Such as?"

"The bed frame."

"Whatever, I'm sure that pillow was plenty heavy for you." Sam snickered.

"Heavier for you. Throw it back if you can Sam…antha."

"Ha, ha. What are you, 12?"

"Give it back, I'll wake up with a crick in my neck."

"Fine take it. It smells like your cheap shampoo anyway." Sam tossed the pillow back.

"Don't diss the shampoo. Strawberries are the best."

Sam rolled over and tried to close his eyes, but he couldn't quite bring himself to. There seemed to be things moving, shadows, on the fog filled floor. Suddenly he desperately wanted a night light. It was too dark in this room.

He rolled over again. Dean seemed to be asleep. Nothing seemed to really worry him. At least, he had the gift of hiding it well if he was worried.

Sam sighed. Trying to tackle the mystery that was his brother wasn't going to help him get some sleep, it would only make his brain hurt.

He thought instead about the life he could have had with Jessica. A nice house. Kids, maybe, two or three. She had always liked kids. Going to work, having picnics together…

He woke up to Dean's voice, an excited sounding whisper.

"Wake up Sam, Jenny's here."

Sam, still in dreamland, mumbled… "Her name's Jessica, not Jenny, you know that, you son of a…" His sleepy slurred speech was cut short when he opened his eyes.

There was a girl standing amongst the fog. She was transparent, floating, like any normal ghost. Sam caught himself in that thought. Normal ghost! He shook his head.

"How long has she been standing there?"

"Just a few seconds."

The ghost then spoke. She had soft blue eyes that shimmered like a star, and dark hair that framed her face perfectly.

"You are here to help me, to find my true killer, bring him to justice?"

"I knew it wasn't that stringy kid!" Dean seemed almost joyful.

"Yes, we are here to help." Sam was all business.

"The one who killed me was my boyfriend Monty. You will make sure he gets what he deserves. If you fail, you will regret it, I promise you". At these last words, the blue in her eyes seemed to harden, become more like a stormy sky.

"We won't fail. We help beings like you. If Monty is to be brought to justice, we'll make sure it happens. You can count on us." Sam was surprised to find himself doing all the talking.

"What was that kid's name? Cory, Craig, Clyde…?"

"Will you focus on the task at hand please Dean? There is a ghost in front of us asking for our help!" A pause. "His name was Chris."

"Oh yeah."

"Don't worry Jenny." Dean took over. "We'll bring him down."

"Thank you both." She said. "Remember, don't fail me…or there will be consequences."

And like that Jenny was gone, seeming to vanish into the fog on the floor of the room.

"Did she just threaten us Sam?"

"Nothing gets past you."

"Creepy. I wonder what she means by consequences?"

"Let's not find out."

"Well" Dean said. "Now we know who the true killer is. Tomorrow we pay a friendly visit to Monty Strong."

"Fun, fun."

"I am all about good times. Whatever I may say to you, I always show you a good time."

Sam chuckled at that. Good times. Normal brothers went to arcades and concerts together. He and Dean went to haunted houses, graveyards, and asylums. Good times indeed.

"Hey Sam, have you noticed, is there a bar around here, or a pool hall? We need to rustle up some cash."

"Thankfully no, I don't like it when you hustle pool. Last time you almost lost all our money and nearly got a good pummeling from that huge biker chick."

"You mean Big Bertha? Nah, she was all right. If she'd wanted to she could have kicked my ass, but she was cool."

"She chased you out of the bar, waving a pool que at you, swearing that you ever came back, she'd beat you to a pulp." Sam grinned at the memory.

"Yea, but I didn't go back, and she didn't beat me up…so there. Now go back to sleep. We've got a busy day tomorrow."

"I'll take that bedtime story now."

"Offer's expired." Dean yawned.

"Pretty please."

"Fine, once upon a time there was a great, wonderful, strong, good looking guy named Dean who had to tell his baby brother Sammy a story so he could sleep at night. But he didn't want to so he hit him over the head with a bed frame, and Sammy was out like a light. And they lived happily ever after. Good night."

"That story sucked."

"So do you. Good night Sam."

"Good night Dean." A pause. "Do you think she'll come back tonight?"

"No, I think she'd said all she needed to. Besides, she, unlike you, knows that we won't get anything accomplished if we don't sleep. Now, for the last time, good night."

"Good night." And again, Sam found himself trying to go to sleep. Odd how he and Dean could have a spiritual encounter and then joke around with each other right afterwards, like it wasn't a big deal to have seen a ghost. Maybe he was more used to it all than he'd thought.

Jenny hadn't really creeped him out, but the look in her ghostly eyes when she mentioned they would regret it if they failed…he shivered again.

Get a grip, he told himself. It's just like any normal job. We won't fail, there's nothing to worry about. Still, Jenny's threat hung over him like the fog hung over the floor. Gradually, Sam Winchester fell asleep, to the sound of his brother's even breathing.

Author's note: Once again, I'd like to apologize for the delay. I'm swamped with school work and finals are right around the corner. After finals, I'll have winter break and I won't be able to get to a computer with internet, so forgive me and don't give up on me! I apologize in advance! I'll type over break if I can, so I'll have plenty of future chapters ready to go! )

Windyfontaine: I didn't update as soon as I wanted to, so I'm sorry again. I hope you keep reading. I appreciate all your kind reviews. I don't think I'm going to break them up again if I can help it…they're much better as a pair. As always, I welcome all comments. )

Ghostwriter: I will never do slash, I promise you that. Ugh. It'd be all incesty and…eww. Anyhow, thank you for your reviews. I hope you keep reading and reviewing! I appreciate it. )

ashlyns: I gotta stop writing this stuff at night. Funny how that always works out. I tried not to make this ghost scary, but still give her kind of an edge, despite her brief appearance. That's why she threatened them. Anyhow, I hope this chapter didn't give you the creeps. As for Dean and the towel, well, I had fun writing that bit, cause I got to picture it in my head too! Thank you for the review, and please keep reading. )


	7. the boyfriend

**Hi, everyone! Here's the next chapter. I don't own supernatural…enjoy!**

**Chapter 7: the boyfriend**

That morning, Dean decided to forego another shower in the dorms. He'd just wait and snag one at the hotel. No sense taking chances. Despite his seeming calmness, the whole thing last night in the shower room had made him uneasy. That and the fact that it seemed like they were the only ones on the entire floor.

He'd woken up before Sam, and was glad of that fact. Sam usually woke up first…from some nightmare or other. It worried Dean more than he let on. But at least Sam's lack of sleep was an excuse for his attitude some of the time.

"Hey, wake up, before you drown in your own drool!"

Sam sat up groggily, eyes half closed, and ran a hand over his mouth.

"What time is it?"

"6 am, time to get down to business." Dean noted his brother's shocked look with a smirk.

"6 am! Are you insane? It's too early to go over to see Monty. I bet he's not even up yet."

"Then we'll give him a nice wake-up call Sam. This is important. Besides, if we get this taken care of, then we can get out of here. This place is just…creeptacular. I'd like to hit the road as soon as possible."

"Yea ok."

"Feel free to take a shower before we head out."

"Not on your life Dean. Unless of course, you go first."

"No thanks. After we see Monty, we need to stop at the hotel anyway, get our junk. We can both shower then. We may as well stay here again tonight…it's free and we might see Jenny again."

"For once you're making sense."

"Feel at home here in the dorms, do ya?"

"Yes actually. Except for the fog and the shadows and everything else…it feels nice."

As they left Dean noticed the fog on the floor. It seemed to be building up, like there was more than last night. And it was drifting. He glanced out of the window.

"Sammy, look at this."

The fog from all over town was moving, coming in every direction. It was going very slowly, but its movement, especially from the window, was clear.

"What the hell's going on here?" Sam mumbled. And for once, Dean didn't have an answer for him.

Monty Strong's house was located on the edge of town. They spent an hour locating it, unable to find a phone book, which Sam said was ridiculous. Rather than the lack of a phone book, Dean found it more alarming that the town was about empty.

There were a few pale faced people in each of the shops and looking out of windows of houses, but there was nothing outside except for the fog, which was still building up and drifting.

"You wanna ring the bell, or should I?" Dean asked.

"You do it."

Dean reached out with a finger, surprised to see that was shaking ever so slightly, and rung the bell. What was wrong with him? He'd been through stuff worse than this. Maybe it was the fact that he felt there was more to this whole thing than there seemed to be. He didn't know what it was, therefore he was nervous. Yea, that was it.

Monty answered the door. He looked every bit like Dean had pictured him. Big, tall, crew cut, everything a stereotypical football player should be. He looked pale like all the others, something Dean hadn't expected.

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"Agents Butler and O'Hara. FBI. We're here to talk to you about your girlfriend's death."

"I didn't do it. I already told the cops here."

"Well, we believe otherwise." Dean hoped he would stay calm. He and Sam didn't need a guy gone berserk on their hands. It would only create more problems. But the big guy didn't even flinch.

"What makes you say that?"

"We have a statement from the victim." Might as well be blunt. Dean had the feeling that somehow Monty would get it.

"Did you see her ghost or something?" He said in a mocking tone.

"Yes, actually, we did, last night." Dean looked over at Sam, who was staring at him openmouthed. This wasn't like him at all, he knew. He didn't usually tell the truth in situations like this. But something told him that this time it would be ok. It was almost as if a voice was whispering this to him.

"I don't believe it, there's no such thing as ghosts."

"Come to her dorm room this evening, and you'll see her for yourself." A big gamble. There was the chance she wouldn't appear again. But if what he thought was right and she was whispering to him, that wouldn't be a problem. She would appear. Sam looked shocked.

"Fine, I'll go and clear my name by making your claim seem crazy, but only because I was going to go over there anyway, ya know, just to remember her. I'll prove there's no such thing."

"Deal, but if she does appear and says you killed her, then you'll go to the jail with us? If you try anything, things'll get ugly. You don't want to see us when people don't cooperate."

"What will you do, shoot me?"

"If it comes to that, yes." That truly wasn't him saying that. It was her. She wanted to see justice done, no matter how.

Monty seemed unfazed. "Yeah, ok, I'll go along with it. Again, there's no such thing as ghosts, so I have nothing to worry about."

"We'll see. Shall we say 6 pm, at Jenny's old dorm room?"

"You got it….agents." He shut the door in their faces.

"Are you insane? Did you hear yourself!"

"I know, but I think it'll work out. I think Jenny was telling me to tell him the truth."

"And what was that about shooting him Dean? That's just not going to happen. I don't care what happens. I am not going to take a life."

"Then if it has to be done, I'll do it."

"You will not!"

"Look, if it's necessary to set Jenny free, I'll do it. I hope it doesn't come to that. I think if Monty sees Jenny, he'll freak out, and go along with us. Despite being a murderer and a jealous boyfriend, he seems pretty level-headed. I mean, I think he didn't even believe we were with the FBI."

"Still…" Sam had a look of genuine worry in his eyes. It softened Dean up and he laid a hand on his brother's shoulder, looking him in the eyes.

" I promise I won't do anything that isn't absolutely necessary, ok? You gotta stick with me on this. I need you."

Sam looked away. "I don't like this. There's more to it. The fog, everything. Something's not right here, but I'll see it through."

"I agree with you Sammy, there's more to it. But I feel that as soon as Monty's behind bars, things'll go back to normal, and we'll be outta here."

"If you say so." Sam looked as unsure as Dean had ever seen him look.

"I do say so. Now come on, let's go back to the hotel. You need a shower…bad."

"Look who's talking." Sam grinned a little, and Dean felt one come to his own lips too. It would be ok. They'd been through worse things. They always came out on top, none the worse for wear. Dean felt that together, they could defeat the devil himself. They headed for the hotel, striding through the fog, which had risen from ankle height to knee height.

**Author's note: I apologize for this chapter. It's kind of choppy and a tad short, but it was necessary for story movement and I plan on putting up another tomorrow morning. I'm sorry there wasn't really any action. I'm on winter break starting next week, so hang in there with me please. I realize I can respond to your reviews on the review page now, but I like doing this better, so there! )(**

**ashlyns: This chapter wasn't very creepy, except for the fog. I love it when they have little fights and make comments to each other. It's adorable and typical of brothers I think. I try. As for Dean and towels, you got your wish girlie! Next chapter will have another towel scene, although sadly, this one will fit. Keep reading, and thank you for your wonderful reviews! )**

**Ghostwriter: Thank you for the review! Good luck on your finals too! They suck, and are a burden to society in my opinion. Please continue to read and review. I appreciate a great deal. )**

**Alexemata: Thank you for your great review! I'm so glad you liked my story so far. I love hearing that people are enjoying. That's what brightens my day! I'm also glad you like the dialogue. I love to write it, so there's a lot. I get carried away with it sometimes, so hopefully everyone feels like you do. Thanks for alerting me about the anonymous thing. I didn't realize I had it off. Shows how much I know about this stuff. Thank you again and please keep reading! )**

**Windyfontaine: Glad you liked Dean's story! Thank you for reviewing. Jenny's ghost will get scarier, I promise. Just a little tidbit to keep you reading. )**

**Spuffyshipper: Thank you so much for the review! They are always appreciated. They are what keeps me writing. I'm glad you like it so far. Please keep reading.**


	8. the hotel room

Ok all, here's my quickie update! I'm including ashlyns's request and if anyone else has little requests like that, please feel free; I'm very accommodating. The POV, or whatever it is, is split up again. Don't own supernatural…yet (evil laugh) Enjoy! )

**Chapter 8: the hotel room**

Sam could feel it the instant he stepped into their hotel room. It felt different, colder. He chalked it up to his nerves though and flopped on his bed…carefully after what happened at the dorm room.

"You tired again?"

"Well, yea, I was woken up at 6 this morning." Sam said. "Plus, my brother's gone crazy. My nerves are about shot, thank you."

"You went through college and 8 am classes and NOW your nerves are shot?"

"Yes, this whole place puts me on edge."

"Well it does me too." Sam scoffed at that. It sure didn't seem like it, maybe at first, but now Dean seemed the picture of calm.

"No, really it does. But…at least one of us has to seem unworried about the whole thing, provide reason, keep calm for the sake of the other."

"But that's not me this time?"

"No, you're as frazzled as an old mother hen."

"Which is why I need to take a nap, now shut up before this hen pecks your eyes out." As if to demonstrate how tired he was, Sam let out a big yawn.

"So I take it I can grab the first shower?"

"Knock yourself out." Sam just wanted to rest. He wanted to forget, even for an hour, what was going on. Dean disappeared into the bathroom.

The incident at the dorm showers hadn't seemed to faze Dean. Sam figured he'd be just a little apprehensive about it. He knew he would be. Maybe it was like Dean had said; that he was trying to be unworried about everything that had happened. He was trying to protect him, keep him from being stressed out. Well, it was a nice gesture, but it wasn't working.

His bed seemed so soft after that dorm bed. He was glad to be back in a dorm… even a creepy dorm, but one thing he didn't miss were the uncomfortable beds. It must be like that at every college, he thought. Law school. He should be there now. A nice fog free law school with no shadows. If only…

Of course, he supposed that the really important deep down thing was that he was spending time with his brother. Getting to know the real Dean, for better or for worse. Good old crabby, vain, smart ass, pool hustling Dean.

He is smart though, Sam thought. For everything wrong with him, he's very smart, and he keeps a cool head. And he looks out for me, whether I want him to or not. Yea, his brother was all right, as far as brothers went.

He supposed it could have been worse. He could have had Charles Manson for a brother. Or a werewolf. That got him thinking; it was high time for a brotherly prank. He'd wait for the perfect time. Sam yawned again. Ok, he thought, no more thinking.

He settled in for a nap, ignoring the drifting, rising fog. He'd go insane if he lingered on it too long. The last thing he heard was Dean singing Foreigner off key and very loudly, in the shower.

Dean was in a good mood. He was getting a much-needed shower in a non-haunted bathroom, and best of all; he could try and pretend that the fog was just steam. A little bit of rock music and everything was as it should be.

He reached around for a washcloth. He wondered if maybe he should invest in one of those puffy shower things. They may be for girls, he thought, but at least if he got one he could stop using the scratchy hotel washcloths.

Sam would love that. He'd get Sam one too. A hot pink one. Another great idea. He soaped up the washcloth and began with his shoulders and chest. Maybe, just maybe, he'd stay clean this time. He always managed to get dirty on hunts. So did Sam.

He'd have to force Sammy into the shower when he got done. He didn't care how tired he was. They were professionals after all.

He hoped Sam was getting some sleep. Nothing had happened in the time they'd been at the hotel, which, altogether, wasn't long, but still…

He grabbed his strawberry shampoo and smelled it. Why did Sam seem to have a problem with it? The stuff was great and cheap. A good combination, plus, it smelled great. The kid had bad taste. That much was obvious. He needed a haircut too.

Still, Sam was a good kid. He worried too much though. After all they'd been through together, Dean was confident that there wasn't anything they couldn't tackle.

He let the water run down his face before soaping his hair with the shampoo. He had to admit, he wasn't all that nervous about tonight. It was simple enough. Jenny would appear to Monty, Monty would freak out and come quietly to the jail, which, from what Dean had seen, would have plenty of room for him.

He pushed the strangely empty jail out of his head. There were explanations for that too. The inmates could have been in the exercise yard out back. And if he were the warden, he wouldn't put that Chris kid out there either. He sure hadn't looked like he could do much exercise.

He wasn't paying attention to anything else but the running water, but if he had been, he would have seen two shapes appear just outside the shower door, real enough, but transparent, as Jenny had been. They didn't say or do anything and in a matter of moments, faded away.

It wasn't the end of Dean's shower that brought him out of the bathroom, but his brother's yells. At first he thought it was another nightmare, but the calls were persistent. Sam could be in trouble. Not here too, he thought.

He clambered out of the shower, dripping from head to toe, shaking water off of himself much like a dog. "Sam, are you ok buddy?"

"Dean! Get out here… I mean NOW! HURRY!"

Dean grabbed a towel. Not wishing to repeat the scene at the dorms he took a half second to make sure it fit before tying it around his waist and rushing into the freezing room.

He saw Sam…sitting on the bed. Nothing more.

"This had better be good."

Sam was shaking, barely noticeable, but it was happening all the same. He had just had an encounter, and it had strengthened his need to get out of this place in a hurry.

"They were here. They talked to me."

"Who?"

"The two real FBI agents who came here to investigate the murder. I've been calling you so you could see them too."

"Sorry, I thought it was just one of your nightmares. Tell me everything."

Sam had been asleep when he'd felt a presence in the room. He'd thought it was Dean at first, but he could still hear water running. He hadn't been asleep long.

He had sat up, opened his eyes, and saw two men before him. If he hadn't been used to seeing all sorts of things, he might have been scared. As it was, he had been curious.

"Who are you?" he had asked.

The two spirits had told him they were FBI agents, called to look further into the murder of Jenny Turner by the parents of Chris Marsh, friends of theirs from long ago, who had felt their son had been wrongly imprisoned.

"When was your investigation?"

"It began one year ago yesterday; it ended one year ago tonight."

"Were you killed?" Stupid question, he thought. "Was it Monty Strong?"

They didn't reply. Only stared at Sam, who had begun at this point to call for Dean.

Dean hadn't come. Come on, you're going to miss them, Sam had thought.

"Get out of here while you still can. Leave by tonight, or our fate will become your own!"

At this, he had called louder, and had been finally rewarded by a reply from Dean.

"But," Sam finished, "by the time you got your lazy ass out here, they had faded away."

"You mean my chiseled ass," Dean corrected. "You saw it, by accident, at the dorm rooms in that unfortunate towel incident. You know perfectly well it's not lazy or slow or anything like that."

Sam rolled his eyes. " Focus please. Questions, comments, to what I just told you?"

"Very interesting. But we're not leaving. We have to finish this job."

"You heard what I said they said. They're dead Dean, which means that if their fate becomes ours, we'll be dead. And I, for one, don't want to die. Understand? So, if you want to look out for me and do what's best for me, you'll get dressed and then we can leave."

"Look, don't worry. We've been through much worse than this. How many times have we looked death in the face? We're expert death cheaters. We can survive this. And Winchesters don't quit. Plus, if we don't see this through, then we'll have Jenny to deal with, and that is something I don't wanna mess with. We take the lesser of two evils. We know we can survive this if we work together."

"This time we don't know exactly what's going on. I never found out exactly what killed the FBI guys. There's a lot of things that don't fit…like that fog for one. If you hadn't noticed, it's been building up and moving."

Sam grabbed Dean's shoulders and steered him to the window.

"Well I'll be damned."

The fog was still moving slowly and rising, but now it appeared to have a destination. From their third floor room, it was clear that the fog was moving to the center of town, gathering there, right in front of the college.

"What do you think it means?" Sam had no idea himself.

"No idea little brother, but I don't like it. Everything's going to come to a head tonight, I can feel it."

"I agree, the FBI guys said tonight was the night their investigation ended. Obviously, they died in this very room. But how? I figure it was Monty."

"Makes sense, but no one ever investigated the deaths of the agents, so far as we can tell." Sam hadn't thought of that. Two brains were better than one.

"That, I can't explain, but at the risk of sounding like you, I have a feeling we'll find out tonight."

"Speaking of which it's 4 already, so get in the shower."

"Yes Dad." Sam chuckled.

"Just go." Dean smiled. It was nice to see him genuinely happy.

Three minutes later, Sam stuck his head out of the bathroom door.

"Here, you might need these."

He tossed all Dean's clothes at him, which he'd left in a pile on the floor.

"Thanks man."

"You're welcome."

"Hey, these are drenched!"

"Sorry, I splashed."

"No kidding, more like a small wave. I can't put these on."

"So wear something else. Do you want me to take a shower or not?"

"All my other stuff's dirty."

"So go to the laundromat. It's across the street I think, empty like everything else here."

"I can't go out like this!"

"Sure you can."

"SAAAAMMMM!"

"Wear some of mine."

Yours are all dirty too and besides they're dorky, they're not cool enough."

"Oh come on!"

"Pleeeeaaase."

"I'm almost in the shower."

"Pleeeeaaase."

"Fine, fine, hang on."

Sam came out after throwing his clothes back on. "Get in the bathroom and get another towel. I want to wash that one and use it for when I'm done. It's thicker."

"All right, only cause you're doing this for me, and thank you by the way, even though it's your fault they're so wet."

"Yeah, yeah, get me all your dirty clothes too, and I'll do all mine, might as well have a full load."

Sam gathered up all the clothes, snickering to himself. He was so mean.

"Now hand me that other towel."

Dean went back into the bathroom and handed Sam his towel.

"I'll be back with clean clothes." And Sam took off, laughing, away from the hotel and across the street.

Dean turned toward the towel rack. No towels. What the hell? He glanced in the bathtub. They were all swimming in a pool of water. Sam's doing. Immaturity at its highest level.

But the prankster in Dean also recognized it for what it was. A good prank, one that he had fallen for, hook, line, and sinker. He's so worried and serious one minute and the next minute he does something like this.

The only thing that was dry was the other washcloth. Fantastic. He'd kill Sam when he got back…that was all there was to it. No, wait, he couldn't. He needed him for this hunt, and others besides. Maybe a noogie or two…or three. Either way, there would be punishment.

Dean sat on the edge of the bathtub wearing the washcloth, such as it was, and reflected on all the things that he could to Sam when his brother returned.

Author's note: Hope y'all liked this one, cause I really do. My break starts tomorrow afternoon so I can't update till mid January unless a miracle occurs. I apologize for that, but bear with me. Have a good holiday season and thanks for sticking with this. )

**Spuffyshipper: Thank you for the review. I'm glad you're enjoying my story. The fog is creepy I know. Please keep reading. I'd hate to lose you as a reader. )**

**ashlyns: I hope I did good with your request. I had a blast writing this chapter! Hope you enjoyed it. Thank you for your kind review. I'm glad you think I'm staying true to the characters. )**

**Ghostwriter: Thanks for your review. As always, I love to receive them. You're so lucky getting to skip a final. My profs would never go for that kind of thing! I envy you! )**

**Mrs. Winchester: Thank you for your review! I'm glad you like my story. Please keep reading. I need all the readers I can get. )**

**Windyfontaine: Thank you, as always, for your review. I love hearing from regulars, it makes writing more worthwhile. More weirdness coming up soon. The pale people weren't in my initial idea for this story, but the thought grew on me. Glad you like! Keep reading pretty please! )**

**Mick: Thanks for the review! I'm so glad you like my story. Sorry it took awhile to update. I'm a nerd and studies come first. I hope you did well on your finals. Please keep reading and reviewing! I'm getting relatively close to a wrap-up here, so it's killing me that I won't have access to internet over break. Hope you continue to like this. It may or may not get confusing at the end. )**


	9. the last minute preparations

**I apologize BIG time to everyone who was reading this! I've been so busy with school and all that stuff that I haven't had the time to update. PLEASE forgive and continue to read. I WILL finish this! I don't own anything supernatural as usual.**

**Chapter 9: the last minute preparations**

By the time Sam got back from the laundromat, Dean was still in the bathroom, freezing and irritated.

"Ya know, that was just low, and keeping me waiting like that…"

"I was doing laundry, it takes time you know. Besides, I was trying to lighten the mood a little bit. I mean, we are looking at the culmination of all that's happened to us here so far, plus the risk of dying…I thought we could use a laugh."

"I'm not laughing Sam."

"I'm sorry."

Sam put Dean's clothes in his brother's proffered hand and waited patiently for him to come out.

The hand reappeared. "You gave me your underwear….I'm a boxers man."

"Sorry again…honest mistake."

"Whatever…your little plan failed."

"What plan?"

"To get me to wear your underwear… I'm not blind."

"I can come up with better pranks than that, don't insult me. Besides, it happened when we were kids, remember?"

"Yeah" Dean replied. "But the only reason that happened was because you couldn't tell your Superman from my Batman. And that was Dad's fault for switching them around. Apparently he couldn't tell the difference either."

Dean emerged, and gave Sam a little smile. Then the two of them broke out laughing, recalling the memory of Dean at 8 years old running over their father, saying that Sam wouldn't give him his underwear back. 4 year old Sam had then come running out, pointing at his butt and crying that it was Superman on the back. Dad had had his hands full then.

After the laughter died down, the brothers got serious.

"Shower, Sammy, we only got about 45 minutes before we have to meet Monty."

"Yeah, ok, I'm going."

Once in the shower, Sam realized how much he'd actually needed one. It felt great. He closed his eyes and felt the water trickle down his face. Then something hit him. He'd left his shampoo in the room. He glanced around saw only Dean's. It would have to do. The important thing was that he was in the shower. He tried to relax. Keeping his eyes closed he felt for the shampoo and soaped up his hair. He imagined that he was taking a shower in a real house, with no worries other than taking care of his family.

He stuck out his hand for the washcloth. What he grabbed instead was a patch of cold air. Stubbornly, Sam refused to open his eyes, worried about what he'd see. What finally opened them was a breeze of cold air past his ear and a whisper that said "leave now, while you still can." His eyes snapped open and right in front of him was one of the FBI ghosts. Sam yelled and saw the washcloth on the floor of the tub. He picked it up and, instinctively, used it to cover himself. The image of the agent vanished. Then he heard Dean's voice.

"Sam! Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I…I…I'll tell you in a bit. Just let me get out."

He hurriedly shut the water off, dried himself, got dressed, and went out into the other room. It was empty.

"Dean…Dean!" No reply. Sam began to get panicky. He continued calling his brother's name, running around, looking in places he knew Dean couldn't be. He figured he probably looked a lot like the frazzled hen Dean had called him earlier.

"DEAN, WHERE ARE YOU? THIS ISN'T FUNNY!"

He was looking under the bed, risking the fog to look for Dean, worrying about what could have happened to him, thinking that the other agent had whisked him away somewhere or something, when he heard his brother's voice behind him.

"What are you doing?"

He got up and saw Dean standing in the doorway, an amused look on his face.

"You bastard."

"What?"

"I thought something had happened to you. Where were you?"

"I was just getting our stuff from the car."

Sam looked again and noticed for the first time that Dean's arms were full of weapons.

"The FBI guy appeared to me in the shower. He warned me again to leave…that's why I yelled. There's no way we can take all that."

"We have to be prepared for anything Sam."

"Well, we can't this time. Monty might see all that and panic. He's already murdered one person. What's two more?"

"If we have all this stuff, he wouldn't dare try anything. We could mow him down no problem if he does go crazy."

"Real FBI agents don't have all that stuff."

"We're not playing cops and robbers Sam. This is for real."

"Still, could I talk you down to one gun each."

Dean relented. "Fine, it might be better anyway, we'll have our hands free. But I'm gonna have to insist that we each carry some holy water too. It might come in handy."

"Fine with me." Sam took the bottle and gun from Dean. His brother was going into his inner preparation ritual now. The silence, the even breathing, the closed eyes. He was pulling himself together, into the here and now. Sam started to follow suit, but all of a sudden it came to him. That smell he'd smelled before.

"Dean…"

"Don't bother me now man, I'm focussing."

"Do you smell smoke?" Dean stopped and sniffed.

"Now that you mention it, yea, I do. Is the room on fire?"

"Don't think so." Sam moved around the room, sniffing. He kneeled on the ground. It was stronger. No way.

"It's stronger down here."

Dean paused, then joined him.

"You're right. Are you saying that this fog is smoke?"

"No, it couldn't be. It definitely smells like smoke though."

"How do you know it's not?"

"C'mon Dean. Smoke doesn't congregate in the center of town."

"True. Ok, so we're dealing with fog that smells like smoke."

"Yes, open that window."

He was surprised when Dean obeyed. The second the window was open the fog in their room wafted out the window and headed off the join the rest of the fog. A smoky breeze floated into the room. The two brothers just stood there watching it.

Once the fog was out of the room, a different smell took its place. Sam recognized it instantly. It smelled like Jess. He didn't tell Dean, but if he had, Dean would have told him that he smelled something different now too. A smell that he remembered from a long ago. It was the strong smell of lilacs. The lilac scent that their mother had always worn.

They didn't say anything for awhile and it was Dean who came back to reality first.

"It's time Sammy. Let's go."

Sam closed the window and with what felt like a ton of weight on his shoulders, he followed Dean out the door.

"I smell strawberries now."

"Yea, that's me. I had to use your shampoo."

"Isn't it great? I love it."

"Focus."

"Right, let's hit it."

**Once again, I apologize for the delay. I'd like to thank everyone who responded to chapter 8. I'm going to start fresh with reveiw responses on this chapter. Thank you soooo much! )(**


	10. the professionals

**I am honestly going to finish this…I always have such a problem with ending stories, but I think I have this figured out, and I cannot apologize enough for this extensive delay; it's ridiculous really, but I'm back and here we go with chapter 10! (I don't own much of anything, much less supernatural, although I do, naturally, own the dvds). **

**Chapter 10: the professionals**

On the way to Monty's house, Sam sat in silent apprehension and tried to think about all the reasons that he and Dean shouldn't be doing this. All the warnings they'd received, the feeling of dread hanging over them; they should just get the hell out of there. He glanced over at Dean, who was bobbing his head to the radio and tapping a hand against the steering wheel.

"Will you react to the situation we're in please"

"Huh?"

"You're acting like we're on a happy-go-lucky road trip to Wallyworld instead of being in imminent danger."

"Imminent?! I think that's a slight overreaction."

"Not at all. Either we're in trouble with this fog and Monty and FBI ghosts, or we're in trouble with Jenny's ghost. It's a classic lose-lose situation."

"Just try to relax, listen to the soothing sounds of Enter Sandman, and above all, breathe."

"Breathing and Metallica are not going to help."

"They do me"

"Well, that's you, I need a bit more than that"

"Sam, look, we've been through worse than this. Lots worse. Remember the water demons when we were kids? Now, **that** was a bad situation. This is child's play."

"Yea, well now **I** have a feeling about this; plus Dad was there with the whole water demon thing"

There was a silence as each thought of their father and how he'd bailed them out of various situations, teaching them along the way.

"We can do this" Dean broke the silence, speaking steadily and with conviction.

Sam took a deep breath. "Yea, we can", he said, and was surprised to find that he meant it. It was amazing what a memory could do. He could almost feel Dad's strength in him, helping his confidence in his own abilities.

"We're here" Dean said. "Is it just me, or does this place remind you of the Munster's house? I didn't wanna say anything last time we were here, but it's just creepy."

"Are you serious?"

"Well, yea, look at it. It's huge, old, and shrouded in fog. Plus, Monty bears an uncanny resemblance to Herman."

Sam chuckled. "Well maybe a bit. But the address is all wrong. 5617 Sunnydale lane, not 1313 Mockingbird lane"

"Sunnydale, that's hilarious. Speaking of sun, have you noticed, it's never here? It's not cloudy exactly, but the sun's not out."

"With this place, I'm not surprised."

Sam led the way up to the door and with a shaking finger, rang the bell.

A pretty blond woman answered the door, and it was like someone had flicked Dean's on switch. He shoved his brother off to the side, and smiled as big a grin as he could manage.

"Well, hello there, I'm agent Butler, and this is agent O' Hara. How are you doing today?"

"I'm alright, thanks, how can I help you?"

"We're looking for Monty, is he around? We need to borrow him for a bit"

"I'm sorry, he's not. He left about a half-hour ago. He said something about needing to go to the college. He seemed a little out of it, not quite himself. I think he's still shocked about poor Jenny."

"I'm sure he is", Dean said with a glance at Sam. "We'll just head up there then."

"Is he in trouble or something?"

"No, we just had some questions, is all, nothing major". Again, Sam thought, not very FBI like, but then again, neither of them looked the part either. Old, ratty jeans and t-shirts were not exactly regulation FBI wear. He was surprised the girl didn't see right through them.

"Thank you very much for your time", Dean said, the smile still plastered on his face.

Sam turned and started to walk away. He was down the steps when he realized he was still alone. He turned and saw his brother still rooted to the spot, talking with the girl. He sighed and walked back up the steps, grabbed Dean's jacket and gave it a good yank.

Caught off guard, Dean was propelled backward, knocking him against Sam, who was on the edge of the small porch. The force sent them both to the ground, tangled up in each other in the tall grass.

Sam groaned inwardly. If she had actually thought they were FBI, surely she no longer did. But she wasn't saying anything.

"Get off me!" Dean yelled, and Sam complied, rubbing his shoulder, which had hit something sticking out of the ground.

"I know I've said a million times since we've been here, but I need to say it again-FOCUS!" He brushed himself off and offered a hand to Dean, pulling him to his feet.

His brother looked back up at the porch to find the girl still there and hiding a snicker behind her hand. He smiled at her again, wished her a good day, and, finally, followed Sam to the car.

"Oh, wait, one more thing", he said suddenly.

"What, did you forget to get her number?"

"No, already got it, something else."

He went up to her and said something. She looked puzzled and shook her head. Dean nodded and jogged back to the car.

"You know, we're supposed to be FBI."

"Yea, so?"

"Well, FBI don't make idiots of themselves when they're on a job, and they certainly don't flirt with people like that."

"How do you know? And besides, you yanked me back. You could've tapped me on the shoulder or something like that. Talk about unprofessional"

"You're calling me unprofessional?! I don't believe this."

"Just drop it Sammy. You were right about one thing. We need to focus"

Silence as they calmed down. Then Sam recalled something.

"My shoulder hit something when we fell. Something hard, sticking out of the yard".

"Bones?"

"I'm thinkin' maybe".

"Let's check it out".

They got back out of the car, and walked over the flattened area in the grass where they'd fallen minutes before. Sam knelt in the spot where he'd hit and noticed a solid piece of bone sticking out of the ground.

"Yep, it's a bone".

"So make like Rover and dig it up".

"Why me?"

"Your discovery. I wouldn't dream of taking an ounce of credit. Besides, I don't wanna get dirt under my nails, I just showered".

Sam gave in and began digging. He pulled out a large bone that could have been a human humerus.

"I'd ask if the papers said anything about Jenny missing any body parts, but there weren't any papers for us to look at. Did you notice a missing arm on her ghost at all?"

Sam thought back. "No, I didn't, but I wasn't looking for it either. I was too busy being creeped out by her eyes and her threats".

"Yea, me too. It could be human. Did you take any bio in college?"

"I did, but not enough to know for sure where this bone came from. Looks human, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's from Jenny".

"It's too suspicious, though. Maybe there was something about it that would link Monty to the crime".

"On her arm?"

"Stranger things have happened. Maybe there was some of his blood on it or something, I don't know, or maybe he's just demented".

"Well, there's no sense keeping it". Sam put the bone back into the ground. Dean pulled it back out.

"We need to hang onto it, Sam. If it is Jenny's, we might have to burn it if things get out of control".

"You're right. Sorry, my mind was off somewhere else" What about the rest of her body? Shouldn't we find that in case we need to burn it?"

"No can do, no idea where she's buried because of the lack of papers around here. Plus, I haven't noticed a cemetery around, have you? The arm will have to do".

"You're right, no cemeteries that I've noticed, which only adds to the strangeness of this place".

Sam thought for a moment. "Maybe it's outside the town's borders".

"Possibly, but we don't the time to check it out. Focus Sammy".

"yea, yea, let's get out of here".

They headed back to the car, Sam carrying the bone as gingerly as if it were an ancient artifact. They climbed in and Dean started it up and they headed towards the fog covered college.

"Out of curiosity, when you went back to talk to the girl, what did you say to her?"

"I asked her if her name was Marilyn".

"What?"

"Ya know, Marilyn, the normal lookin chick on the Munsters".

"I know who Marilyn is, but I mean why?"

"I just couldn't resist man".

"You never can".

**Well, there it is, and I apologize again for the wait. I hope people read and enjoy. Thank you in advance. ) Please review!**


	11. where there's smoke, there's fire

All right, I finally have some time to write, and yes it has been forever, and yes, I'm terrible. No one on the planet is worse than I am right now. I don't own anything and now on with it!

**Chapter 11: Where there's smoke, there's fire**

They sat in the car, Sam cradling the bone.

"Maybe we should burn it first, just in case."

"No time Sam, Monty's already there." Sam stared at the bone and stowed it in his jacket. Thank god for all the inside compartments on that coat. They'd come in handy more than once, and he knew he'd feel better not leaving the bone in the car while they were on business.

"You scared?" He asked his older brother.

"Nope,"

"Dean…how can you not be, even just a bit?"

"Fine, just a bit. It's more apprehension than fear though."

"Sure, whatever."

"What about you?"

"Of course, I'm scared. I'm always scared when we do stuff like this. Any rational person would be."

"Fraidy-cat."

Sam sighed. It was pointless to have serious conversation sometimes. They sat the rest of the car ride in complete silence, Sam staring at the dash and Dean staring out the fog.

They arrived at the campus. Of course, it was difficult to tell exactly where it was, what with all the fog.

"What the hell," Dean said stepping out with his flashlight.

"What?"

"Flashlight isn't even beginning to cut this stuff. It can't be fog."

"So what is it if not fog?"

"Supernatural fog?" Dean suggested, although he knew it wasn't that either. He knew what it was, and he almost didn't believe it. No doubt that Sam wouldn't believe it if he told him. The smell, the look of the stuff. He had an inkling since they'd arrived but just hadn't been able to place it til now.

Sam moved to the trunk and tapped his foot, waiting for Dean to come back and open it.

"Anxious much?" Dean asked, unlocking the trunk and lifting it to reveal their arsenal.

"Just a bit," Sam replied. He grabbed his holy water and a gun and tucked both into his jacket while Dean did the same.

"He'll be in Jenny's dorm room," Sam said, and Dean nodded, leading the way into the deserted building.

As they went to Jenny's room, it was Sam who confessed knowledge of the smell and the fog's identity.

"Smoke."

"I know."

"And death," Sam added. "This whole place is filled with the smell of charred flesh and death. It's like an aura hovering around everything."

"Yep."

"Dean?"

"Yea?"

"You were right about this place. Sorry I wasn't more on top of it."

"Hey, we can't both be right all the time."

They arrived at the door of Jenny's room. What they now knew to be smoke wafted out under the door filling the narrow hallway.

"Monty?" Dean called.

No answer.

Dean reached out and touched the doorknob. He pulled it back instantly.

"What?"

"Hot….it's burning hot."

"Where there's smoke, there's fire," Sam muttered under his breath without thinking.

"What did you say?"

"I said, where there's smoke, there's fire."

"No way," Dean got down on hands and knees and peeked under the door. He immediately edged away until he was leaning against the wall.

"Fire," was all he said.

"The room's on fire?!"

"Like you said, smoke equals fire."

"Monty could be in there."

"One thing to do then…..get out of here."

"Dean!?"

"What…he's a criminal….justice is served."

"I'm not just letting him die."

"Fine, we'll play heroes. I get to be the self-healing cheerleader."

"Whatever." Sam rolled his eyes in spite of the seriousness of the situation.

"Go team Winchester. Rah, rah, rah."

"Shut it and focus."

"Just trying to lighten the mood."

"Well, don't, let's just do it."

Dean brought his foot up and kicked as hard as he could at the door. Before he could make contact, however, it flew open. Dean fell forward on his face, Sam standing behind him. Monty was in there. They could see him clearly, just standing there, as though rooted to the spot.

Dean hauled himself up and without another rational thought that fire was intensely dangerous, he and Sam went in.


	12. the fiery furnace

I am bound and determined to finish this!! Nothing will stop me!! As always, R&R pretty please, and don't own em.

**Chapter 12: The Fiery Furnace**

The heat hit them like a tidal wave, all at once with no mercy. Sam coughed, his eyes watering from the smoke. They made their way to Monty, but just as they reached him, he vanished, literally, into a puff of smoke.

"He's a ghost!" Sam exclaimed. He had honestly not been expecting that. He'd prepared himself for a lot of outcomes, but not that one.

"Just great!" Dean said, coughing. He didn't seem as surprised.

They turned to run out and get help, if help was to be found, but the door had slammed shut and try as they might, it wouldn't budge. They were trapped.

"NOT GOOD!" Dean yelled to Sam. He turned to his brother. Sam was gone, missing amongst the flames. Dean was about to call out to him, but a familiar smell made his words stick in his throat.

Lilacs again. Then, in his peripheral vision, he saw something that made him freeze, despite the urgency of their predicament.

Mary Winchester stood in the fire about ten feet from him.

"Mom?" Dean said shakily. He ran his hand from his eyes, some of the tears having nothing to do with the smoke and haze of the fire.

"Dean, come to me," his mother said in a soft voice. Dean found himself obeying without thought.

Sam had been following Dean closely, keeping him in sight lest they get separated. That really wouldn't improve things. They had to find a way out- and fast. He smelled something, something that stood out through the smoke smell. Something very familiar that he'd smelled the other day.

Then he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. A human shape. He turned to look at it fully. It was Jess.

"Sam, I've missed you so much," she said. It was her voice. Her lovely voice. He found himself walking towards her, ignoring the heat. He reached out for Dean's coat, his rational side making a last ditch effort not to lose sight of his brother. The hand grasped and missed. Part of him didn't care.

Dean stepped closer to Mary, reaching out for her. She was so real. He wanted to fold himself in her arms, to hear her sing to him as she had when he was little.

Then he saw her eyes.

They were blue like Mary's, but there were storms inside them, hard and raging.

Jenny's eyes.

"You." Dean said, still shaking slightly.

The ghost took on her true form and laughed bitterly.

"No justice!!" She yelled loudly. "Now you meet your fate and your brother with you!"

"_Not good,"_ Dean thought for the second time in minutes. Time seemed to go so slow. Jenny flickered away, her eyes still boring into him.

"SAM!!!" he bellowed as loud as he could. It came out quieter than he would have liked, and choked at the end with his coughing.

He floundered around, hands in front of him, feeling the heat, the fire, hoping to bump into Sam.

There he was, stepping toward…nothing.

Sam walked towards Jess, as though seeing her standing in the middle of a fiery room was the most natural thing in the world. In the back of his mind he heard a quiet, muffled sound.

It sounded vaguely like Dean. He ignored it, pushed it out of his mind. The sound was persistent, however, and he finally turned toward the source, still keeping an eye on Jess.

"What the hell are you doing? We're in this deep. Jenny's leaving us here to die! We gotta figure something out."

"Jess." Sam replied, gesturing behind him.

"Sam, there's nothing there."

"She's here Dean, behind me."

Something clicked in Dean's brain. Jenny. It had to be. She had tried to separate them, take them down. Her eyes had given her away to him, had given him the chance to go back to Sam.

"It's not her Sam. It's Jenny. She appeared to me too, only she looked like Mom. She wanted to keep us apart. Look at her eyes, Sam!"

Sam looked. Dean was right. They were filled with anger, vengeance. Definitely not Jess.

The ghost smiled wickedly, and the image of his beloved Jess faded away, leaving Jenny.

"You both failed. You may be together, but there's no way out. You will die like the FBI men." She vanished.

The smoke clouded Dean from Sam's vision. He reached out his hand for the second time, and this time his fingers brushed against Dean's coat. He gripped the material as hard as he could.

"I'm sorry Dean." He yelled, hoping Dean could hear him.

"Me too Sammy," his brother replied.

Sam searched for something else to say, but couldn't find the words. This was it. Of all the ways he'd thought of to meet his end, this was not one of them. His were more creative.

"Sam, the bone!"

"What about it?" Sam coughed back, feeling weak. He wanted to curl up and just go to sleep.

"What if it's not Jenny's? What if it's Monty's? He's obviously dead."

"Where's the rest of him then?"

"Who cares? It's our last shot, our last chance? That could be what Jenny meant by justice. Burn it!"

Sam pulled the bone out of his coat and tossed it into the fire that surrounded them.

Nothing happened. Sam could feel tears spring to his eyes. Not like this. It couldn't happen like this.

It had to be said.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I know we've had our differences, but you're my big brother and I lo-," he began.

"A window!" Dean choked out suddenly, cutting him off. Sam looked. The smoke and flame had cleared just enough to reveal a window. Saved by the bell.

Dean pulled his gun out and aimed it at the window. The glass shattered as the bullet impacted. They helped each other to the space and dove through without hesitation.


	13. answers

**A/N: Oh, my gosh!! Wow, I haven't updated in an age. If anyone's still reading this, I'm soooooo sorry! I beg for forgiveness and am redeeming myself by (finally) finishing this fic. I'm happy with it, but I regret taking so long to finish it. **

**Chapter 13: Answers**

Dean woke to something hard beneath him. He was on the ground. He kept his eyes closed, the sting of the smoke still in his mind. He groaned and rolled over, coughing. When he got his throat clear, he inhaled several times, just breathing in the fresh air. Wait a minute! Fresh air? It shouldn't be fresh. The building was on fire.

He opened his eyes. The town had disappeared. There was nothing. No houses, no college, just ground. He blinked several times against the morning light, and looked around for Sam.

"Sam!? Where are you?"

"Over here!" Sam called out. He was sitting up a ways away from where Dean had been. Clearly he'd regained consciousness before Dean had. Childishly, Dean felt a pang of jealousy. He was oldest after all; he should have woken up first, been the one sitting around waiting for Sam to awaken.

He got up and walked unsteadily over to where his brother sat, crashing down next to him.

"So, what the hell happened? Where is everything and everyone? We jumped out of a window, and now, nothing."

"You were out for awhile," was all Sam said.

"So?" Dean was a little embarrassed by that, and didn't want to linger on it if it wasn't relevant.

"So, I had time to think about everything. I think I have it pieced together, but we can confirm everything once we get out of here and I can get internet access."

"So spill-what's going on?" Dean truly didn't have a clue. Sam was surprised. Usually Dean had some kind of theory. He took a deep breath before plunging into his own theory.

"Basically, the town is a ghost town-literally. The people, the houses, none of it was real."

"Well, it would explain why everyone looked so pale, and why there was no internet or newspapers or any of that good stuff. How did it happen, and why the fog?"

"My answer to the fog is that it was the spirits of the townspeople. That's why it was all congregating in one place. Not your normal run-of-the-mill fog. And those human shapes we both saw in it. And the reason it's a ghost town must have something to do with fire. And Monty. I think, think being the key word here, that Monty killed Jenny, and Chris went to jail for it."

"I'm with you so far."

"Ok, did you notice how all the buildings in this town were connected to each other, right one right after another, with no spaces in between?"

"Yea."

"Well, that would make it really easy for a fire to spread, which is exactly what I think happened. Monty went back to Jenny's dorm room, just like we were supposed to do with him, and somehow started a fire, which got out of control. I just have no idea what possessed him to start a fire in the first place."

A metaphorical light bulb appeared above Dean's head. "I think I can field that one. The bone we found in Monty's yard. I bet our first hunch was right. It was Jenny's. Monty dug up the rest of them, but forgot that one. He was going to burn them in her room."

"But why bother? He buried them in the hope no one would find them," Sam said.

"Yea, but the FBI was snooping around. Remember? They were investigating for Chris Marsh's family. They were probably questioning Monty. He panicked and dug up Jenny's bones to burn, destroying the evidence that could have linked him to the murder."

Sam gaped at his brother, impressed that he was fitting the pieces together so well where he himself had failed.

"Ok, so Monty goes to burn the evidence, and the fire gets out of control and burns the town down," Sam summed it all up.

"Well, my guess is Jenny played a part too. I mean, she could have just as easily fanned the flames. I mean, she was probably angry that the town hadn't figured out Monty was the killer. You know how she got with us about serving out a little justice."

"Yea, that's true. She could have. It would help explain why the entire town and all the people ended up dead. And I bet you all the money I have that yesterday was the anniversary of the day it happened. The FBI guys warned us about leaving or we'd end up like them," Sam pointed out.

"Yea, so why didn't we end up like them?" Dean asked.

"I don't know. Maybe something was broken when we jumped out the window or something." It was a guess, but Sam couldn't come up with anything more convincing.

"Well, we're alive, so I guess that's the important thing. Do you think this same thing will happen this time next year?" Dean asked.

"Maybe. You wanna come back next year and find out?"

Dean made a face. "What do you think? Let's get out of here."

They got up and wandered around until they located the Impala, in a patch of tall grass, where just hours before there had been a parking lot. They climbed in and Dean got them out as fast he possibly could, his hands gripping the steering wheel as though his life depended on it.

He drove around until they found the highway, going way over the speed limit in an attempt to get as far away from Clearview, Minnesota, or what had been Clearview, Minnesota, as quickly as was humanly possible.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yea?"

"What I started to say before we jumped out the window; well, I meant it. And not just because I thought we were going to die. It's true all the time. Except when you're a jerk."

Dean smirked. He knew how his little brother felt about him. He felt the same about Sam. He just wasn't a girl, so he wasn't going to admit it to him.

"I know Sammy. I know."

After they'd put 50 miles in between themselves and the ghost town, Dean finally relaxed his hands on the steering wheel, and slowed the car down to the speed limit. Sam started to nod off, and Dean nodded his head, satisfied that everything was again back to normal, at least as normal as was possible in their messed up lives.

**A/N: I feel so much better getting this done, you have no idea. It was glaring at me whenever I looked at my story profile. Hope the ending was suitable. Thanks for reading!**


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